


You Gotta Carry That Weight

by veevacious



Series: Felharnin Lavellan [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Comfort, Fluff, Long Hair, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 12:10:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10662306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veevacious/pseuds/veevacious
Summary: The Inquisitor's work is never done. Dorian can't hold the world for him, but he can offer care and comfort as best as he can.





	You Gotta Carry That Weight

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! This is the first fic I've ever written in this series and the first fic I've published in years, but the idea got in my head and wouldn't let go. I finally played Trespasser a few months ago and have been trapped in Dragon Age hell since then.
> 
> This was beta'ed, but if you see any glaring errors please let me know! EDIT: I did some finagling of the grammar and such on 11/13/2017. Nothing major was changed, just corrections and a few tweaks to the wording of a couple of things.
> 
> I tried to write this in a way that Lavellan would be kinda generic, but if you're curious you can see my Inquisitor [here.](https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2811/34072112426_86cf27eb04_b.jpg)

It was becoming increasingly common for the Inquisitor to not make an appearance at dinnertime and the more often it happened the more worried that Dorian became. Not that he thought he was the only person in Skyhold who was concerned, but since their relationship had progressed Dorian found that his attention was increasingly on Lavellan’s well-being rather than simply on the carnal thoughts he’d entertained before they’d begun this. Lavellan worked hard, running from one end of Thedas to the other and from one end of Skyhold to the other when he wasn’t doing that and Dorian knew it wore on him. 

After he finished his own dinner with no appearance by their Inquisitor yet again Dorian took it upon himself to see to the situation. He could certainly send a servant to do so and he was sure that someone had done so on previous nights, but this way at least he could be sure the other man actually took a break and relaxed for a few moments. He more than deserved it with how much time he dedicated to the Inquisition. It was with those thoughts that he headed toward Lavellan’s quarters with a small tray, borrowed from the kitchen, with a plate of roast meat and vegetables, rolls, and enough warm, spiced wine for both of them. 

The walk up was chilly as the wind seeped through holes and cracks in the stone where the staircase leading to their illustrious leader’s quarters had yet to be repaired. Dorian didn’t bother knocking. He couldn’t help but feel it rude, but Lavellan had told him he was welcome anytime and he was trying to let himself believe that. When he made his way up into the room proper it was easy enough to see exactly what he expected, more or less. Lavellan was standing behind his desk, palms pressed to the wood and head down as he surveyed the jumble of maps, reports, letters and whatever other multitude of things that he was now expected to take care of. On closer observation it appeared that the other man wasn’t actually focused on any of it. His expression looked very far away. In fact, he looked quite tired overall. There were dark smears under his eyes and a few strands of hair had fallen away from his normally impeccable bun. He looked like the weight of the world was on his shoulders, though Dorian supposed in a way it truly was. Dorian didn’t envy him in the least, but perhaps he could help to lighten the load somewhat.

“Trying your hand at divination are we amatus?” He said with as much amusement as he could muster, a teasing smile on his lips that he didn’t completely feel, but he was nothing if not a showman. He could hide his worry easily enough. “I’ve found that answers usually become even harder to discern the longer you stare at something.” 

“Dorian.” Lavellan’s eyes snapped away from the paperwork, briefly flashing as they caught the candlelight and Dorian watched various expressions move across his face as he headed further into the room and set the tray on the little table by the settee. There was guilt there and then a softness that never failed to make Dorian’s insides flip about. “I’ve missed dinner again I see.” He said contritely and stood up fully, groaning softly and pressing his hands to his lower back. 

“Keep doing so and our guests will think we’ve made you up to impress and intimidate them. Of course some of them surely think that already.” Now that Lavellan was standing Dorian could see more evidence of the stress he was under. There was a furrow in between his brow, his lips turned down ever so slightly, and his usually confident posture was slouched, shoulders tight and drawn. “Now, come and sit.” Dorian said and gestured to the settee with a flourish of his hand. “I won’t leave until I’ve seen you actually eat something.” 

Lavellan raised his hands in defeat and came out from around the desk, a light smile on his face. Dorian stood waiting with his arms crossed as he watched his lover approach. He was barefoot, as he generally was whenever possible, and his feet padded softly on the carpets that covered the cold stone of his quarters. When he drew close he leaned in and let his weight slump against Dorian with a sigh and another tired groan. Dorian caught him with a chuckle, wound his arms around him, and kissed the top of his head. They stayed there for a long moment with Lavellan breathing him in and clutching at his hips while Dorian rubbed soothingly at his back. 

After a while Lavellan pulled away and gave him the briefest of kisses before flopping down onto the settee and pulling at Dorian’s hand. Dorian went gladly, sitting sideways so that he could keep eyes on Lavellan. He watched as the other man pulled the tray over to balance it on his crossed legs and accepted the second goblet of wine when it was passed over, still slightly warm. It wasn’t a fancy dinner, but it did include things Dorian knew the other man enjoyed and it pleased him to see the approval on his face. 

“So.” Lavellan said as he tucked in, popping a piece of potato in his mouth with his fingers and talking around it indelicately, a behavior Dorian would usually find abhorrent, but with Lavellan he found it a bit more tolerable. The man’s manners were generally perfect and it was only in moments like this with his closest friends that he allowed them to slip. He supposed it might also be how terribly fond he was of the other man as well. “Since you’re so insistent on pulling me from my work why don’t you give me something else to think about?’

It wasn’t meant as an innuendo, but it sparked a little flame of lust in Dorian anyway. That wasn’t difficult. Lust was easy. This, love he supposed, was different and Lavellan’s relaxation was more important in the moment than any overtures he could make. So he ignored it and instead launched into a story about how some of the visiting nobles had cornered Varric that night to ask him all sorts of questions about his novels. 

One of them, a man with a comically pointed chin, turned out to be a huge “Swords and Shields” fan and had eventually overtaken the conversation to ask about the series and when he might be considering another installment. Cassandra had pointedly ignored the entire exchange until Varric, with an enormous grin, mentioned that he was indeed continuing it and that their Seeker was helping him with “proof-reading and editing” the novel. Watching Cassandra answer the noble’s questions and glare at Varric had been extremely amusing and Dorian could have sworn that he’d caught a tinge of a blush on her cheeks, though it was difficult to tell in the low light. She’d been polite, if curt, and had made a retreat as soon as she was able. Dorian just knew that Varric was going to get an earful later. 

Hearing Lavellan laugh at his tale was lovely and it quelled some of his worry to see those eyes sparkle and his shoulders relax. Maker, he was a beautiful man. He was constantly amazed by the fact that of all the people Lavellan could have been with it was Dorian that he’d chosen. It wasn’t only his physical beauty. Lavellan was smart, confident, and a powerful, talented mage.The fact that he’d taken so seemingly effortlessly to leading the Inquisition was testament to all of these things. He was also patient, kind, and compassionate. He tried to help others whenever possible and while Dorian may complain about having to slog through all sorts of places doing all sorts of petty errands for people they didn't even know in truth he would follow Lavellan whenever and wherever asked despite the grousing that came so naturally to him. 

“Varric had better watch himself.” Lavellan said as he set the now empty plate aside and split the last roll to share with Dorian, settling back with his wine. “Someday he’d going to push too hard and Cassandra actually might kill him.” 

“Well, if that does happen someone will have to make good on their end of the betting pool.” Dorian replied mirthfully. “I know for a fact that there’s serious money down on whether they end up in bed or bloodied.” Lavellan snorted into the dregs of his wine as he finished it and then set his goblet aside as he leaned back into the cushions, eyes closed. He still looked tired, but he was definitely eased and Dorian was happy to have put a smile on his face. 

He finished his own wine, slid a bit closer, and then reached out to run gentle fingers down the other man’s arm. Lavellan turned his head with an inquiring noise and his eyes opened only enough to focus on Dorian. “Don’t fall asleep here amatus. My kindness does not extend to carrying you to bed,” which wasn’t actually a lie so much. He could probably carry Lavellan if he absolutely had to, but he’d be more likely to grab pillows and blankets and tuck him in for the night on the settee.

“I should get up.” Lavellan said without any enthusiasm, a frown once again turning down his lips, and Dorian knew he intended to go and fail to do more work. He made as if to stand, but Dorian caught his wrist with a smirk. Lavellan needed to rest. The world would (hopefully) survive for at least the night. “I fear that I can’t let you do that amatus. I’m incredibly selfish, you see. I insist on you entertaining me for the rest of the night.” he said flippantly and pulled Lavellan toward himself, gently maneuvering him so that his back was toward him.

Before Lavellan turned Dorian could see his smile returning. “Oh? If you insist then.” he replied and let himself be manhandled. Once Dorian had Lavellan settled he reached up to scratch at his scalp. Lavellan had the longest hair of any of Dorian’s lovers, but he always kept it twisted up tight in this sensible bun. The first time he’d seen it down had been while they’d been sealing a rift.They’d been fighting hard and it must not have been secured well enough because it had come loose. He’d been too busy to notice more than in passing while the battle was going on, but when the demons were dead and Lavellan reached up to close the rift he had been free to look. He’d been struck by how wild it made him appear. With his hair blowing in the wind, covered in gore, and the sickly green light of the rift’s magic shining on him he’d looked truly otherworldly, like how Dorian imagined one of the elves of legend must have appeared. When Lavellan turned to them, breathing hard and eyes stormy Dorian suddenly found himself both uncomfortably aroused for the situation and slightly afraid. The effect was ruined once Lavellan smiled and started teasing the Bull about something or another that Dorian couldn’t remember, but it had served to spark a curiosity in him regarding the Inquisitor’s hair that he’d resolved to explore once they were alone.

Since then he had gained an appreciation for long hair that he hadn’t had previously. Lavellan only allowed it when they were alone and seeing him like that had become something that felt private and intimate. Dorian mused on these things as his fingers deftly pulled the wooden pins out from Lavellan’s bun. It didn’t fall away right away, he twined it too tightly for that, so Dorian unraveled it until it fell into a tail and then unknotted the final leather tie that held it gathered up high on the back of his head. Lavellan hummed and Dorian could see and feel him sag comfortably into the attention. He worked his fingers into the fine strands and rubbed gently at Lavellan’s scalp, knowing that the pressure of having it up all day sometimes bothered him. Loose his hair reached down to the middle of his back and was slightly wavy. It must be heavy to always wear it up, but Lavellan was a fairly practical man so even though Dorian couldn’t imagine him cutting it he also couldn’t see him just leaving it loose all the time. 

“Feels good.” he heard Lavellan murmur as he massaged at his scalp a bit more strongly. Dorian guided his head back a little bit to kiss the crown of it before carding his fingers down carefully to loosen his hair further. He encountered a few snags, but Lavellan didn’t mention them so he assumed he either hadn’t felt them or they were small enough that he didn’t care. Dorian continued his attentions, brushing through his hair gently with his fingers only to reach up to rub gently at his scalp again. With previous partners this might have been an overture to sex and even with them it had been in the past, but tonight he only wanted his lover to relax, to give him something good to keep his mind off of the myriad of things he had to do not only to try and prevent the damned end of the world, but to solve every single dispute that made it across his desk, it seemed. 

There were times, times he wasn’t proud of, that Dorian had been afraid that his relationship with Lavellan was a dream. It was something he never could have conceived of even in his wildest youthful fantasies. Being in love with a Dalish elf who just so happened to wield ancient elven magic given to him accidentally by one of the original Tevinter magisters who’d caused the Blights, who was now the leader of arguably the strongest fighting force in the known world and also a damn religious icon was nowhere even near the ballpark. The “being in love” part had seemed far enough out of reach on its own. It was frightening and it was wonderful. It wasn’t perfect, but it was good and Dorian tried to live in the moment as much as he could because the potential end of the world was not the time to be planning for your future. He didn’t always succeed, but he could have moment like this. He sometimes wondered if they helped or hindered his goal to not imagine spending the rest of his life with this man.

“I can hear you thinking back there.” Lavellan’s voice cut dryly through his thoughts and he startled, realizing he’d let his hands nearly still, just softly rubbing strands in between his fingers and thumbs. Before he could reply Lavellan was leaning back, pressing against his chest and Dorian let himself go, falling back against the arm of the settee. It was a bit of an awkward position, but it felt natural to let his arms come up around Lavellan’s waist. “Well, one of us has to.” he replied and Lavellan chuckled as he snuggled in and gave Dorian’s hands a squeeze with his own. They stayed there for only a few moments before Lavellan was moving again and though Dorian thought to keep hold of him, keep them pressed comfortably together, he let the other man slip out of his arms. He didn’t move far away though, merely turned around to look down on him with that hair tumbling over his shoulder to tickle at Dorian’s neck. There was affection and comfort in that gaze and Dorian felt both proud to have put that expression on Lavellan’s face and humbled to have it leveled at him. 

“Thank you Dorian.” Lavellan said and then closed the distance between them for a kiss. It wasn’t quite chaste, but there was no lust in it. It was perfect and it made Dorian feel appreciated and treasured. Once it broke he cleared his throat and said “Anytime amatus.” with a wavering smile. Lavellan gave him a smile of his own and sat up, offering his hand for Dorian to lever himself up from the settee. “Bed?” he asked and Dorian knew that he meant only for sleep. This was a step they hadn’t taken yet. Oh, he’d slept in the Inquisitor’s bed before, but it had always been after a romp. He found that he wanted to sleep curled up beside him without expectations, to touch with nothing in mind other than love and comfort. And so when Lavellan’s eyebrow raised, waiting for his answer Dorian took a breath and replied “Yes.”


End file.
